


A Simple Escape

by floofboy



Series: Miscellaneous Senyuu AUs [1]
Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Romance, Secret Identity, this is really just a fluffy concept piece where nothing goes wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: In which Alba is a prince forced to wed the Empress of an empire, and Ros is his loyal, yet impertinent servant.
Relationships: Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion
Series: Miscellaneous Senyuu AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165622
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	A Simple Escape

**Author's Note:**

> I decided it wouldn't hurt to write out the occasional little snippet of small AUs I'll definitely never get the motivation to make into proper big stories. 
> 
> This is more a fluffy little concept piece than an actual story, so temper expectations, haha. Hope it's still fun enough to read though!

“My lord,” says Ros, “Let’s flee.”

They’re alone together in Alba’s grand bedroom, Alba sitting with his head in his hands on his bed, Ros standing alert in front of him. It’s not an uncommon position for them both, but it’s certainly an uncommon topic. 

“Where would we even flee?” Alba asks, helpless. 

“One of the many nameless farming villages on the border,” Ros says immediately. “We could also sneak over the border into a neighbouring country, if we really wanted to be safe. There’s lots of towns in Tonaari that would probably work well.”

“Why do you have such a detailed answer prepared?!” sputters Alba, jerking up in place. 

“Why _wouldn’t_ I have one prepared?” says Ros, voice snide. “Unlike a certain prince, I wouldn’t say things without meaning them.”

“When have I ever done that?” complains Alba. 

“So arrogant, my lord. When did I ever say I was talking about you?”

“Hey! It’s not like you know any other princes!”

“Now you’re making classist assumptions as well.” Ros sighs deeply. “You’re truly despicable, my lord.”

“It’s not classist to assume a commoner probably hasn’t talked with much royalty!” objects Alba, 

“Yes, yes, my lord, whatever you say…” Ros drawls.

Alba trails off into meaningless grumbles. 

“Moving back to the subject at hand,” Ros continues, “Let’s flee.”

Now it’s Alba’s turn to sigh. 

“Look, Ros, even if we have a destination in mind… how would we even get there?” he asks, “And once we get there, how would we even survive? You’re a castle butler, I’m a useless prince. Farming is hard work- how could we make a living doing it?”

“I’m glad you’ve become self-aware enough to recognize that you’re useless, my lord,” Ros praises, his eyes shining. 

“You never let up, do you?” Alba says sourly. 

“I wouldn’t dare!” Ros chirps, then smiles. “My lord, don’t worry so much. I have some experience in farmwork, and even if that doesn’t work out, I have absolute confidence in my hunting skills. We won’t starve.”

“That’s assuming we won’t be constantly on the run from pursuers,” points out Alba. “If we purchase farmland, we’ll put ourselves on a noble’s radar. The very first thing the castle would do is reach out to the country’s nobles.” He groans. “And we still have no way to even escape the castle in the first place!”

But Ros is undeterred. “My lord, I promise you, I can handle all that.”

“How?” Alba demands. 

“Must I say?” 

“It’s your life we’d be gambling with!” Alba slams a hand against the bed. “If we’re caught, I’d just be dragged back to the castle. But you-” his voice breaks, “You’d be exiled at best, at worst…”

“Honestly.” Ros’ voice goes soft. 

Then he falls onto a knee, brings Alba’s hand to his lips and presses a light kiss against its back. 

Alba flushes a bright red. “Wha-”

“I can protect us both,” Ros says firmly, gaze firm. 

Then Alba blinks, and a blue flame flickers into life by Ros’ head. 

A blue flame he’s only ever seen on one other person. 

Ros continues, “I’ve already been doing it all these years, after all.”

“You-” Alba’s eyes widen. “What? How- Creasion-san?!”

“While you’re still useless compared to me,” Ros - Creasion? - says, “I haven’t been teaching you magic for nothing, you know. You’re not _entirely_ useless compared to the average person, I suppose.”

“Since when were you...”

“From the start.”

“Why would you hide your identity?” sputters Alba. 

“Do you even need to ask?” Ros’ smile is blindingly bright. “To play around with your heart, of course!” 

Alba flushes deeper, though he’s not sure whether it’s more from anger than embarrassment. 

“It was all a game to you?” he demands, a lump beginning to form in his throat. 

“Naturally.” 

Ros lets Alba’s hand fall back down, then in a smooth move, stands up and slips himself onto Alba’s lap. His arms wrap around Alba, tight, a hand weaving into his hair to force his gaze towards Ros. 

“It was so adorable,” coos Ros, “watching you get all worked up over liking the mysterious bad boy that always saved you when you were in danger.” His hand moves to caress Alba’s cheek. “It only got worse when ‘Creasion-san’ became your mentor, hm? _I like Ros, so why does my heart beat so fast around Creasion-san?_ ”

“You-” 

The feeling in his chest is definitely anger now. A pure, white fury. 

(With a core of misery that would make him burst into tears, if he hadn’t gone through years of etiquette lessons.)

“My dearest lord, you’re really mine in every way, aren’t you?” Ros says sweetly. “It makes me love you even more.”

Alba’s fury dissipates so quickly it leaves him reeling. 

“L-love?”

Ros’ eyes are gentle. 

And too close, much too close, his mind is going to overload-

“Of course,” Ros says softly, “I’ve always loved you.”

Then Ros is leaning in, and Alba’s mind goes blank. 

When he comes to - hours, minutes, seconds later - he’s fallen down onto the bed, Ros pressed happily into his chest. 

(And his lips sting a little.)

Alba wets his lips, then, a little hoarsely- “Ros.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Let’s flee.”

And while Ros is still hiding his face-

Alba can feel him smiling against his chest.

* * *

Things go absurdly smoothly. 

But then again, perhaps it isn’t so absurd, considering Ros is Creasion. The mysterious genius mage no one could hold a candle to, who entered the Kingdom’s Ultimate Strongest Mage Tournament under a fake name and won without a scratch. 

And even besides that…

“I’ve been planning this for years,” Ros says casually, by the campfire on their second day on the run. “I’m a commoner, after all, no matter how strong I might be. I’d never be permitted to marry you.” He shrugs. “Our only choice would be to flee.”

“You call _me_ arrogant, but you just went and assumed I would follow you…” Alba grumbles. 

“I didn’t assume,” corrects Ros, “I hoped.”

Alba, meanwhile, just hopes the light of the campfire hides his blush. 

“Though,” Ros continues, his gaze going dark. “I never thought you would be forced out like this, my lord.”

“I wasn’t really forced-”

“-They were going to make you a _concubine!_ ” Ros snaps, looking angrier than Alba has ever seen him. “If this kingdom needs to sell you off to an empress in order to survive, then it can rot in hell for all I care.”

“I’m sure the ministers did all they could…”

“ _I’m_ sure all the ministers cared about was their own power,” Ros says coldly. “If you really believed in the ministers, you wouldn’t have fled with me.”

“I would’ve fled with you no matter what, as long as I knew we could survive doing it,” Alba mumbles, “I want to be with you too, you know.”

Alba is pleased to see that he can make Ros blush as well.

* * *

They find themselves in Tonaari in the end, in an average-sized farming town by a forest. There’s enough migrants to this town that two more wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, especially when they were magically disguised. 

Pretending to be travelling merchants deciding to settle down, they purchase a cottage with enough farmland for a small orchard. 

“Now that I think about it, with magic I can probably manage any kind of farm, and we’ve brought enough more than money to live on for a few years,” Ros says with a smirk, “So I want to grow something sweet.”

If their kingdom sends pursuers after them, Alba doesn’t know. If they did, they never reached anywhere even close to them. There’s news, of course, about the missing prince from the kingdom next door- but it never amounts to anything. It makes him feel a little silly for worrying so much about it before they fled. 

Alba never expected he would end up spending his life as an apple farmer, but he has no complaints. The neighbours are friendly, and Ros is warm by his side. 

Ros continues to teach him magic, and with him, he has fun creating things the best he can. Magical machines to spray pesticides and fertilizers, to pick apples on their orchard and scythe grains for neighbouring farms. 

And their kingdom, in the end, falls without a war only a few years after they flee. 

Their kingdom didn’t have anywhere near the amount of military power as the Empire Alba was to be married off to. So according to the rumours, when the Empire demanded control over the kingdom as recompense for the prince’s disappearance, no one dared disobey. 

Alba should feel bad. The people don’t seem to be suffering under the new leadership- but many nobles, many ministers are. 

Perhaps, if he had gone along with the ministers’ plans, he would’ve saved their kingdom from being swallowed up so easily. 

Ros just snorts at that though. 

“It’s just as likely that the Empire would’ve taken you in, then taken over the kingdom anyways,” Ros says snidely. “Don’t take the blame for something that isn’t on you, my lord.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know…” mumbles Alba, then- “By the way, Ros, how long are you going to keep calling me ‘lord’?”

“I’m not calling you ‘lord’,” Ros says primly. “I’m calling you _my_ lord. Do note the difference, my lord.”

“You-” Alba flushes. “You’re so embarrassing.”

“But you love me that way, don’t you, _my_ lord?” Ros says with a winning smile. 

“That has nothing to do with the fact I’m no longer a lord,” grumbles Alba. “If you want to make it clear I’m yours so badly, why don’t you use a different term?” He lets out an embarrassed cough, his voice growing weaker. “Like… you know… ‘husband’...”

“My lord,” Ros says, sounding absolutely delighted. “Is that a proposal?”

“...Maybe.”

“Well, regardless,” continues Ros, pressing Alba into a tight embrace. “I gladly accept.”

And that's more than enough to make Alba blindingly happy.


End file.
